Bridal Trap

by Rena McKay

She gave him one more scathing look and then started down the hallway. He caught up with her in one long stride and his steel grip yanked her to a halt.

  "Let go of me. I'm going home." She tried to pull away but his hand only tightened painfully around her arm.

  "Not yet. There's a little job we have to do first."

  "Now what?" she said bitterly. "Find some innocent kids and tell them a few lies just for the fun of it?"

  He ignored her outburst. "Now," he said grimly, "we get a ring."

  Chapter Five

  Robyn protested, arguing that there was no point in carrying things that far, but Trev was grimly determined. Finally, shrugging, Robyn gave in.

  They went to Redwood Valley's only jewelry store. Robyn didn't make even a pretense of being interested as the salesman brought out trays of glittering rings. She tapped her fingers on the glass display case, impatient for this ridiculous farce to be over. No, no, that wasn't true, she reminded herself hastily, because when it was over that meant Mrs. Barrone would be gone too. No, all she meant was that she was impatient for the farce here in the jewelry store to end.

  She had expected Trev would walk in, simply point to a ring and that would be it, but he didn't. He looked critically at the trays of rings and finally the salesman brought out several spectacular rings individually displayed on black velvet. Trev turned to Robyn.

  "Have you a preference?" he asked.

  She shrugged indifferently.

  He selected one and the salesman deferentially asked Robyn to slip it on for sizing. Suddenly Robyn realized it was not one ring, but two, a complete wedding set.

  "We won't be needing the wedding band," she said icily.

  The salesman was taken aback and murmured something about not being able to break up these sets of specially designed rings.

  "Then we don't want—" Robyn began.

  "We'll take the set," Trev cut in smoothly. To Robyn's furious glance he remarked mockingly, "I understand diamonds are an excellent investment these days."

  Robyn turned away in disgust. He wasn't doing this for his grandmother at all. He was only using money again to soothe his own guilty conscience. Assuming he had a conscience. And now he was cold-bloodedly looking at the rings as an "investment," ever ready to further his own interests even in this unhappy situation.

  "Of course you can always use them for your real wedding," she said caustically. "Providing your fiancée doesn't mind one slightly used engagement ring."

  The salesman looked bewildered by the biting exchange, but he had evidently learned not to question customers' motives, especially those of customers who were buying one of the most expensive items in the store. He discreetly turned his shoulder to Robyn so he could discuss price with Trev. The salesman at first said it would take several days to have the rings sized to fit Robyn's slim finger, but Trev said flatly that he wanted the rings the following day and that was that. For some people, Robyn thought with an odd mixture of disgust and admiration, things could always be done a little more quickly.

  As things turned out, however, the ring did not go on display for Mrs. Barrone the following day. Trev called about noon, just as Robyn was dressing to drive over to the hospital, to say his grandmother had taken a turn for the worse. She had suddenly started having problems breathing and was now in an oxygen tent. There was nothing Robyn could do, he said unemotionally, and no point in her coming over.

  Robyn hung up the phone saddened. This was it then. It was only a matter of time now.

  The day dragged on. Robyn jumped whenever the phone rang, but it was only Mrs. Barrone's elderly friends checking on her condition. She tried calling Larry at the little apartment-studio where he did his painting, but there was no answer. She wondered how Trev spent his time. Surely he didn't hang around the hospital all day. Perhaps, for Mrs. Barrone's sake, she should have invited him over for dinner. He must be getting tired of hospital cafeteria food.

  Robyn decided to hike over to the beach. She couldn't do anything for Mrs. Barrone now, and it would scarcely matter if she got the bad news the moment it happened or an hour or two later.

  She loved to walk on the beach. It always gave her a sense of perspective and put her problems into place as she compared them with the timeless crash of the waves, the endless shiftings of the sands, the patient wearing away of solid rock. She could always feel her tensions relaxing, her annoyances evaporating.

  But today, in spite of an afternoon that she suddenly realized was glorious with sunshine and exhilarating breezes, she felt neither relaxed nor soothed. She wanted to forget about Trev and yet the first thing she saw on the beach was that gnarled stump from which he had rescued her, flung high and dry on the beach now.

  In her pocket she even felt the fishline he had broken and tossed to her. A seagull squawked overhead. Possibly the same one he had released, she thought sourly. Why did everything make her think of him?

  Determinedly she scrambled over the sharp ridge of rocks separating the crescent of sand from the next stretch of beach. In further exasperation she realized this only brought her to the water-carved cave where Trev had said he had once buried his "treasure" of marbles and pocket knife. She walked on by the cave, not stopping as she usually did to wonder dreamily if some long ago pirate had once stood there also. Concentrating on looking for useful bits of driftwood and shells, she walked on up the beach. But either the sea was being unusually stingy with them, or she was being unusually hard to please, because she returned disconsolately to the house with only a handful of pieces that really didn't please her at all.

  By the next morning Trev still hadn't called. She thought about telephoning the hospital for information but after lunch decided to drive over instead.

  Trev's Ferrari was in the parking lot. Maybe he really did spend all his time here, Robyn thought wonderingly. To her surprise the reception desk informed her Mrs. Barrone had been moved to a private room. She followed the receptionist's directions through the rambling corridors to number 168.

  She hesitated outside, hearing the low murmur of Trev's voice, then peered around the partly open door. Mrs. Barrone's head was turned toward the door, a rapt expression on her face as if whatever Trev was saying was utterly fascinating. The jungle of bottles and tubes had followed her here, but somehow they looked less ominous in the bright, airy room. Trev was leaning toward his grandmother, his back to Robyn, his strong hands clasping the frail ones.

  It was such a close, intimate scene that Robyn was loath to interrupt: She pulled back, but not quickly enough. Mrs. Barrone had seen her. Almost reluctantly she stepped into the room.

  Mrs. Barrone smiled. Robyn was astonished to see that it was a real smile, not that ghostly little twitch of the lips that she had earlier rather desperately taken to be a smile. Mrs. Barrone's eyes were not exactly bright, but they no longer had that vague, unfocused look.

  "Mrs. Barrone! I didn't know—I'm so pleased! You look marvelous." That wasn't exactly true, but the improvement was remarkable. Robyn's gaze flew to meet Trev's.

  "Robyn! How nice to see you, darling. I tried to call you just before I came to the hospital but you must already have been on your way over here." His voice sounded phony, almost forced, and his look was hardly welcoming.

  He rose and met Robyn with a kiss on the cheek before she could go to Mrs. Barrone. She looked up at him in astonishment.

  "We're engaged, remember?" he muttered grimly. "At least look as if you're glad to see me."

  "Why didn't you call me earlier?" she retorted in a whisper.

  "I couldn't pick up the ring until just a few minutes ago. The jeweler called in sick." So, the mighty author couldn't control everything after all, she thought as he fumbled in his breast pocket. "Get the damn thing on before she sees you don't have it."

  Robyn lifted her hands as if straightening his collar, and he managed to slip the ring on her finger out of Mrs. Barrone's view. Then he turned back to his grandmother, smiling broadly, at ease now.

 
"Sorry, I just had to have the first kiss. Now she's all yours."

  Robyn leaned over and kissed the soft, withered cheek gently. A nurse bustled in and adjusted something on the tube leading to Mrs. Barrone's arm.

  "Never give—old woman—any peace," Mrs. Barrone grumbled, eying the busy nurse. "Always— fussing."

  Her words were slow but less slurred than earlier, Robyn noted, and they seemed to show some of her old, feisty spirit. Trev had said his grandmother was in an oxygen tent and here she was breathing on her own. And not in the intensive care unit either.

  "I'm just so surprised," Robyn said. "Trev said you had a—a bit of a relapse."

  "Silly doctors thought I—" Mrs. Barrone paused, breath giving out before she finished the sentence. "Thought I was dying."

  "You're not dying," Robyn protested. She hoped the statement didn't sound as doubtful as she felt.

  "But I just kept telling myself—" Pause. Breath. "I wouldn't die. I kept telling myself—I would not die before you two—were married."

  "You won't die. You're going to live to see us married. You're going to live a long, long time yet. You'll hold your great-grandchild in your arms—"

  Robyn glanced up to see Trev regarding her with a mocking, cynical look on his face, and she was suddenly horrified with herself. Why in the world had she made such a ridiculous statement?

  Now Trev stepped up beside her and put his arm around her. His hand moved lightly, caressingly, up and down her arm. "We'll have at least three, won't we, darling?" He smiled at her intimately.

  Robyn glared up at him, lips compressed furiously. How could he do this? How could he say these things? It was a mockery, a travesty. She had said what she did without thought, simply chattering on to cheer a sick, elderly woman, but Trev was deliberately playing with both of them. His lips brushed her hair and she fought an urge to slap a stinging palm across his face. And yet even as she fought that urge there was another diametrically opposed feeling, one that was even more disturbing. The slow caress on her arm left a trail of fire that seemed to ignite something deep within her. The intimate smile made her legs feel like melted plastic. The blue eyes burned into hers, suggesting a passion that unexpectedly sent her mind and senses reeling.

  She forced herself to look away, to say with counterfeit brightness to Mrs. Barrone, "Have you seen my engagement ring?"

  She thrust her hand out so Mrs. Barrone could see. It was the first time Robyn had really looked at the ring too. She had deliberately ignored it in the jewelry store. Now the huge diamond flanked by a swirl of smaller stones made Robyn's breath catch. It really was beautiful. A modern yet graceful design that she really might have chosen for herself. Not that what she thought mattered, of course, she realized grimly. Trev had purchased the rings with an eye to their value as an investment, and large stones were certainly the best investment.

  "Lovely," Mrs. Barrone murmured approvingly.

  "Nothing but the best for my girl," Trev agreed.

  His arm was still around her. Robyn frowned at him, willing him to remove it, but he only smiled and moved his hand down to encircle her waist. He was deliberately toying with her, she thought angrily, amusing himself with her fury and frustration. He knew full well she was powerless to say anything. She could hardly snap, "Get your hands off me," to this man she was supposed to be so madly in love with. And Mrs. Barrone was beaming at them in full approval of Trev's show of affection.

  Determinedly Robyn ignored the arm around her waist and the feel of his hard thigh against hers. She chattered on about the people who had called to inquire about Mrs. Barrone's health, talked about going to the beach, even mumbled something about the weather.

  Trev moved around behind her, encircling her with his arms and clasping his hands together at her waist, his chin resting intimately against her temple. Robyn knew it was all phony, an elaborate display of affection for Mrs. Barrone's benefit—with perhaps the added plus of furnishing Trev with some sort of private wicked amusement—but it affected her anyway. His warm breath on her ear was distracting, the feel of his powerful chest against her back disturbed her even breathing. She had the feeling she was babbling inanely.

  She pulled Trev's locked hands apart and stepped out of his embrace. A little breathlessly she said, "Dear me, here I am running on and you two were having such a nice talk before I arrived."

  "Good—to see you," Mrs. Barrone murmured approvingly. "Good to see you—so happy together."

  Oh, yes, we're real little lovebirds, Robyn thought grimly. She carefully kept her eyes away from Trev's, knowing the mocking amusement she'd see there. She moved around on the other side of Mrs. Barrone, putting the high hospital bed between herself and Trev. "How are you feeling?" she asked brightly. "I mean, are they treating you right?"

  "Doctor said surgery—my hip."

  Robyn's glance flew to Trev. Did that mean they thought Mrs. Barrone was well enough to undergo surgery now?

  "Yes, they've decided they can't postpone it any longer," Trev said noncommittally.

  Robyn studied him uneasily, suspecting this was not particularly good news after all. She was even more certain when Trev abruptly changed the conversation back to a more cheerful subject.

  "We'll have to get you a new dress for the wedding. That's what you'd better be thinking about," he said jovially.

  Mrs. Barrone plucked at the bedcovers with a frail hand, her eyes suddenly watery. "If only I could be there," she said wistfully. "But I—I'm here—like this."

  "You will be there. We couldn't do it without you," Trev said earnestly. He squeezed her veined hand. "Look, you come through this surgery with flying colors and we'll have the wedding right here, right in this hospital room. Minister and everything. Maybe they'll even let you drink a glass of champagne."

  Mrs. Barrone's lips parted in wonderment, and Robyn could almost see something come to life within her. For a moment she had looked so dejected and forlorn, but now she was alive again. Her eyes almost had a sparkle. Trev glanced at Robyn, as if again defying her to deny what he had just said.

  "That—that's right," Robyn agreed shakily. "Right here in this very room."

  Trev leaned over and kissed his grandmother. "Now you just think about that and get some rest. We'll be in to see you again."

  Robyn kissed her too. Mrs. Barrone's eyes were closed now, as if the excitement had wearied her, but it was a contented weariness. Trev quietly pulled the door shut behind them as they slipped out.

  Robyn turned to face him, her eyes stormy with held back anger. "I agreed to go through with this," she said coldly, "but I will not stand for being pawed!"

  He smiled lazily. "Don't you think she'd be a little suspicious if we were something less than—ah— loving?"

  "But we can't keep doing this!" Robyn cried wildly. "You have her hoping, believing …"

  "That's the idea," he said. "Hope and belief. It's all we can give her."

  "But it's going too far! First the ring and now this,' telling her we'll be married in her room."

  "If your conscience is bothering you, go back in and tell her it's all a lie," he said harshly. Brutally he added, "Send her into surgery with nothing to live for."

  Robyn stared up into those blue eyes, frigid as an Arctic sea now. She couldn't do that, of course, and he knew it. It could be giving Mrs. Barrone a death sentence. Major surgery held its risks at any time of life, but at Mrs. Barrone's age and in her condition the risks were many times multiplied. Spirit and hope were about all that could bring her through.

  Realizing he had made his point and won, Trev went on less harshly, explaining the reasons why the doctors had decided they must go ahead with the surgery at this time in spite of the risks. They walked slowly down the hallway and into the slight drizzle falling on the parking lot. Robyn was careful to keep a healthy distance between herself and Trev. The surgery was scheduled for early morning, day after next, Trev said, barring further complications between now and then.

  "I'll be
here," Robyn said.

  "There's no need—"

  "I'll be here," Robyn repeated doggedly. They were at her car by now. Robyn reached for the door handle and saw the diamond ring glittering on her left hand. She slipped it off.

  "Here. You'd better take care of this. I wouldn't want something to happen to your valuable investment."

  "I'd like you to keep it on." Gently, but firmly, he slid the ring back on her finger.

  Robyn looked up, surprised, her heart unexpectedly fluttering as his touch sent an involuntary shiver of excitement through her.

  "I've arranged with my grandmother's friend, Mabel, to take care of the plants, and Mabel said she might also come to the hospital if visitors were allowed. My grandmother will be sure to say something about our 'plans,' and it might look a little peculiar if Mabel then saw you without the ring. Old ladies tend to notice those things," he added cynically.

  "I see," Robyn murmured dryly. "You do think of everything." Then another disturbing thought struck her. "But this means—I mean, other people are going to think—"

  "I don't give a damn what other people think." His voice was coldly contemptuous.

  "But surely you don't intend to carry out this charade in front of the whole town, in front of everyone!" she gasped.

  "I'll do whatever I have to to keep my grandmother alive," he said grimly. "It may not be obvious to you, but I care a great deal about her."

  Their eyes met, his darkly challenging, and Robyn knew he had won again. The pretense had spread beyond the hospital room now. The proof was right there on her finger. What would Larry think? She'd have to confide in him, of course. She couldn't let him think this was a real engagement. And yet, reluctantly, she realized that sometimes Larry did tend to be a bit too talkative, especially when he gossiped with the waitresses at Mama-Jo's restaurant. Suppose he made a joke of it and somehow it all got back to Mrs. Barrone? No, she couldn't risk that.

  Fortunately, she saw nothing of Larry the following day so there were no uncomfortable explanations to be made. Robyn stayed close to home. For Mrs. Barrone's sake she intended to carry out her part in this charade,' but she saw no need to go out and advertise her "engagement." The big diamond felt like a weight on her hand, an unfamiliar object that glittered accusingly at her as she tried to work on the inexpensive little jewelry items she created or went about her everyday chores. She felt that if she went out, everyone would be sure to see the ring and ask questions.